


Nowhere

by FelixMcKraken



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst, Glacial Burn, Horror Elements, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2020-03-16 23:51:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 14,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18953554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelixMcKraken/pseuds/FelixMcKraken
Summary: Vegeta becomes stranded on a planet when his Capsule is irreparably damaged. What first starts as a journey of self-preservation turns into a horrifying excursion of self-evasion and self-discovery.





	1. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREFACE:
> 
> Stop. Click back on your browser. Find another fic to read because this one isn't the one for you. You'll read it. You'll probably hate it. It's confusing, and it doesn't make sense. It's tragically assembled over a period of time, so it is like assembling a jigsaw puzzle in the dark.
> 
> I'd like to pretend this story is deep, and meaningful, and all that. It's not, or, it could be. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Maybe it's a work of art, or maybe it's lacklustre. I don't know.
> 
> But you probably won't like it, so just go back now. Read something else. Save yourself some time.
> 
> Or not.

**Nowhere: 1**

Flinching, shaking, writhing in agony, he forced his palms flat against the ground and pushed himself up. He let out a grunt at the effort of such a seemingly simple task. Pain, while no stranger, was crippling him now. It caused the inconsequential questions to resurface: Why is this happening? How is this happening? How did I get here? Where is here?

The ground was painted with his blood - a splatter of rich crimson that looked grotesquely artistic. His throbbing head wound gently wept onto such an indifferent canvas, changing the design with each drop. He inhaled thick air into his deprived lungs while trying to ignore his body’s protests. In time, he managed to roll onto his side and eventually maneuvered into a sitting position. These movements were taxing, so he gratefully paused afterward to get a grip on his surroundings.

Shadow on shadow. Vast yet claustrophobic. Just the hint of shape and definition that described a sense of interior. He sighed, feeling how heavy and stagnant the exhale seemed.

Tentatively, he lifted his hand and applied pressure to his injury to staunch the flow of blood. Shame washed over him like the changing of the tide. Shame because this was another in a series of examples that reveled his weakness. Shame because his birthright was besmirched.

He closed his eyes.

This is just a dream, he told himself.

Yes.

He fell asleep, and everything became a dream, because reality never functioned like this.

He wasn't on the run from anyone, and no one was out to get him. He wasn't stranded on a remote, alien planet. He wasn't by himself, dying. He wasn't in this place, where ever this place was.

He'd wake up, he told himself.  
He'd wake up and all would be well.  
He'd be the Prince of Saiyans training to be a Super Saiyan, again.  
He would go back to Earth and defeat Kakarot.  
Things would go back to the way they were. 

If only he really believed that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This beginning happened in 2013. I'm trying to make the ending 2019. Expect weekly updates.


	2. 2

**Nowhere: 2**  
  
You wake up and you're in a dark, desolate place, and the only way you know that for sure is the smell, because there's no way a place where life thrives, or barely sustains itself, can smell like this. I vaguely wonder where I'm at, but I know there's no real answer to that. Where ever here is, I think its sole intention is to keep me asking questions. I have lost so much faith in all I know. My perfect little world with its perfect little everything torn down to fucking nothing. 

It was my undoing.

So I sit up and try to ignore the horrible stench around me that hangs in the air so thick it's like vapour. Gagging now would only result in dry heaving. Even as I resist the impulse, I wonder why I should bother. Why bother resisting any of this?

The kind of alone I'm feeling right now is one nothing should ever feel. It's not the normal alone where you need the company of others, or where you can't relate to people, or where you find yourself unable to interact for whatever reason. It's as if everything intangible declares that you're not worthy of attention. It's exactly the type of alone you don't want to be in because fear creeps into you, stifling and suffocating you into believing you'll always be alone.

I don't even know how I got here.  
Capsule crash, my ass.  
Something I found, who knows.  
Who cares? 

All I know is that I have to get out of here. Maybe… Maybe I can find that ghost of Kakarot who likes to follow me around. That goddamn bastard. I will never be able to look at Kakarot the same when I get back. Not when this image of him drags me around town of where ever it's at. Not when he smokes those cigarettes that never seem to ash. Not when he helps me escape from men who chase me down for want of blood. Not when he gets me to stay at his shit-hole of a flat with its faded-yellow-from-white wallpaper and old couches that look as though they were procured from a garbage dump. Kakarot and his long, black trench coat and his pale skin that looks like it never sees the light of day.

Which may be accurate.

All the days here are rainy ones.

And here, where ever here is, there is no such thing as chi. I don't even know what chi is. Maybe it's something I made up, just like how I think I got here by my ship crashing. All I have is questions, and I feel like this Kakarot of mine knows all the answers, but he's just having the best of time withholding the information from me.

Sounds just like the bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I typically use the term ki, but I went with chi for this fic.


	3. three

**Nowhere three:**

Even as Kakarot slams and locks the door, the safety of the latch does little to calm the beating of my heart. My whole body is shaking, and it feels like my stomach is an endless pit. I run a hand over my face as Kakarot removes a packet of cigarettes from his coat with trembling hands. It takes him a few tries to light up, and, when he finally does, he inhales so deep it nearly ashes half of it. We linger around the door as if to make sure that something isn't coming after us.

When he finally looks at me, I snap. "You fucking retard!" I scream, my hands balling into fists. Somehow, I cannot bring myself to hit him, "What the fuck were you thinking!?" He says nothing, but his expression says it all. I turn away from his apology.

Then, without warning, my anger transforms into something akin to despair, and I feel as cold as I did back there. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," I choke out. Suddenly, I'm covering my face as unaccustomed tears escape me. I cannot recall the last time I've cried that's how long it's been.

I've been here too long. In stark contrast I can see that I was taking comfort in the familiar. But the stress is monumental, unbearable. I know, because I know I've cried in front of Kakarot before, regardless that that's impossible. I wish my memories weren't like a city plagued with natural disasters.

I'm captivated by so much negativity that I can barely recognise basic emotions nestled within the torrent. Shame, embarrassment... failure and grief... these are only a few that gather in my shielding hands. All of this is the aftermath of our escape.

Kakarot suddenly grabs me and holds me against him. A part of me wishes to chastise him for his audacity. It's drowned by the solace the closeness brings.

Somewhere, someone, something went very, very wrong.

This world feels wrong, and it has from the beginning.

I wish I could go home.

"I didn't know," he assures me in a tone hitherto unheard. The way he holds me makes it seem as if he's afraid I'll simply disappear.

It's silent in the room. It's too quiet. "Put something on," I demand while removing my hands from my face, wiping my eyes in the process.

"What?" he asks - confused.

"Put some music on or something, I can't stand the fucking silence!" I yell at him again, but am relieved that this anger vanquishes any vestiges of my crying.

"Oh, okay," he murmurs while reluctantly removing his grip. He crosses the room to the old stereo system and I follow. We collapse onto the couch of his diminutive flat. It's strange that despite everything I dislike about him, I know that I prefer his company now more than ever. I have no idea why. I only know that I could've lost him. I know it feels like I lost something of myself.

I lean against him.

He responds by putting his arm around me.

"Someone once wrote how Hell has many layers," I think aloud, "I wonder which one we're in."

He chuckles a fake chuckle - the kind you give because it's expected. Then, he declares, "I'm going to burn that place to the ground."

"Good luck," I reply.

He says nothing.

The music fills my head with hope. I never before imagined it could do such a thing. Slowly, ever so slowly, relaxation sets in. My breath comes normally. The terror is passing. It may come back to me in a waking moment, or in my sleep. Apathy takes root, creating a comfortable numb.

Kakarot makes an astonishingly intimate gesture by resting his head atop mine.

Like an outline of a shadow, a memory washes over me.

I don't know why I smile.

 


	4. 4

**Nowhere: 4**

Little prince, little prince, you little, lost thing. What mishaps have occurred to cause you to arrive?

O little prince, little prince, you look so distressed. You look like shit, standing around that mess, that wreck, that heap of scrap metal.

Little prince, little prince, you look so frustrated. Your confusion has you now, does it not?

O little prince, little prince, you find such disturbing things. What brought you to this place is destroyed, you are all alone. You are caught.

Little prince, little prince, what are you going to do now? You will not cry, will you? You still have the fortitude to resist normalcy, but this will pass just like every act of bravado you play.

O little prince, little prince, you scout this desolate place, and your fear grows to monumental heights. This is the definition of forbidden. You are not supposed to be here.

Little prince, you are not welcome here.

O little prince, little prince, if only you knew, if only you knew that no one is going to save you but you. Perhaps then you'd find the time and candour for your true ill-treated enigma of a knave.

Little prince, you best start running. You should start and never stop.

Little prince, you are never going home again, and you know why.

No one can hear you.


	5. 5

**Nowhere: 5**

Vegeta glanced at his watch, stopped, and truly looked at it. After staring for a moment, he tapped on the face. "What's the matter?" Kakarot asked, stepping aside to wait for his friend.

"My watch," the prince explained slowly, "it's running counter-clockwise."

Kakarot grasped Vegeta's wrist and pulled it under his nose for examination, muttering a "well, I'll be damned" when the statement was confirmed. The brunet glared at the man for the forced physical contact. He would've torn himself out of the grasp immediately, but he felt patient today. "So it's broken," Kakarot said with a shrug, "Chuck it, and let's go." The other man began to wander away into the crowd, leaving Vegeta to wallow in morbid curiosity.

"Maybe time is going back," Vegeta thought, "Maybe everything else is going back but me."

He found himself following after Kakarot while ignoring the drizzling rain and nameless faces. They were soon at an old-fashioned square with cobbled stones and oil lit street lamps. Both took a seat at the lip of a magnificent fountain.

Kakarot reached into his pocket and took out a penny. Flipping it up, he called out, "Here's to getting laid." The copper made a small _plunk_ and sank to the bottom of the ancient monument. Vegeta looked down through the polluted water at the pile of coins scattered, some faintly glinting.

"Here's to the poor," he announced while rolling up his sleeve and diving his arm into the chilly liquid. A handful of slime-covered currency made it to the surface.

The other man looked at him disapprovingly while taking a slow drag, "That's not nice, dude. You're stealing people's wishes."

Vegeta began to clean the money of the grimy substance that coated it, "Wishes don't make things happen. If that were the case, I'd be home right now. Wishing never did anything.  It's like praying - you put your faith into something else so you won't feel bad about not taking action."

Kakarot took another long drag then copied his companion’s movements. Except, instead of taking a handful, he pulled out only his own coin, "I'm voiding my wish. I thought of something better." Vegeta smirked. Lying back on the edge of the fountain, the younger man looked up at the grey-consumed sky, "What's one man's wish is another man's loaf of bread."

"Kakarot... If you did have one wish, what would it be?"

"I dunno. Never really thought about it."

Mirroring his friend's position, Vegeta draped himself across the cool concrete. When he spoke next, his tone was subdued, "One time, I wanted to be a Super Saiyan. I think if I could have anything it'd be the memory of what a Super Saiyan is."

Another drag. "If you don't know what one is, how do you know if you are one or not?"

"How do I know?" the reply was more akin to a voiced thought, "I don't. I have no way of telling if this is even real. You could be a hallucination. You could be a dream. This place could just be a figment of my imagination."

"You told me once that you were a prince."

"Yeah."

"Prince of what?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

A playful chortle, "Sucks to be you."

Vegeta stood and stretched, "Let's go. I want coffee."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many of these early chapters are rather brief, like a series of vignettes.


	6. 6

**Nowhere: 6**

Skittering frantically, they pushed their feet hard against the ground and extended their strides to the very limits of physical capability. They rounded a corner fast, and he slipped on a puddle of sludge. His hands reached to grip the brick wall, but failed to make contact. He fell to the ground and was instantly pulled to his feet by a pair of strong hands. Briefly, he had to ask himself, "Why is this happening? What the fuck is going on?" He didn't have time to contemplate because those men were closing in. The big bad men with fully automatic weapons. The kind that rip off limbs and leave your dead body dancing with the amount of rapid fire succession of the bullets.

All he had in defence was a broken watch and fifty-seven cents in pocket change. The other possibilities would come from objects within his immediate surroundings. Unfortunately, there weren't many makeshift weapons in dark alleyways, but, if he was lucky, they might stumble across a brick. Otherwise, he had to rely upon the fighting skills of his comrade in arms - Kakarot - who he was pretty sure knew nothing of even throwing a punch.

After a few more series of twists, turns, and vaults over fences, they heard the other men fade into the background, then altogether. Kakarot could really run when properly motivated.

"What do they want from me?" Vegeta gasped out, trying to catch his breath.

"Shh!" hushed the younger man, grasping his trench coat and pulling Vegeta against him to hide him within the black folds. The brunet was surprised at the smell within – he'd expected rancid, stale sweat, but only a musky, burnt wood smell permeated the cloth. Crushing them against a wall, Kakarot explained, "They may not see us in the dark."

It was tense and awkward. Vegeta was so close to the other man he could hear the harsh beating of his heart and feel the warmth of his skin. Kept in place by fear, he dared not utter a single word. Instead, he stood immobile, breathing raggedly while inhaling the scent of his companion. Such a strange emotion came over him, a sense of loss for the idea of something in a memory. Standing there shrouded in shadows, both men found their breath slowly coming with more ease. Meeting each other's gaze they began to feel that they were at last safe.

Naturally, they were wrong.

Despite how softly they tread, both Vegeta and Kakarot caught their footsteps at the edge of hearing. A moment later, out of the corner of his eye, Kakarot saw one of the men approach. He knew they weren't recognised because they weren't being shot at. The black-haired man understood the pressing need to escape the situation and by any means necessary.

"Sorry," he said as he uncurled his hands from behind Vegeta's back and instead pushed him against the brick. He knew that the brunet wasn't the type to just go out of the norm to save his skin. He just didn't think like that.

But Kakarot did.

"Wha-" Vegeta began to ask when he was silenced by Kakarot's mouth. Eyes wide, Vegeta struggled in vain against the man, not comprehending this seemingly incongruent action.

"Do you want to live?" Kakarot growled, "Play along."

With the dawn of understanding, Vegeta glowered. The fear was displaced by virulent fervor as he clasped the back of the other man's neck and crushed their lips together. Duly impressed and astonished, his friend closed his eyes, willing away the eminent danger.

An eternity of seconds later, someone tapped them on their shoulders - one tap each - with the barrel of a gun. "Excuse me," a voice said.

Kakarot pulled back, managing to look irritated despite the pounding of his heart and the blush across his nose, "You're interrupting. What do you want?" He leaned in, grinding his body against Vegeta's as if he couldn't bear that they were separated. The prince grit his teeth and sucked air in sharply, but not for the reason their interloper thought.

"Have you..." the man started, obviously flustered as the black-haired man reached down and groped the brunet. "Have you seen..." he tried again.

"I'm seeing a whole lot less of what I want to right now," Kakarot managed to sound indignant.

The gunner found himself backing away, "Never mind. Go about your business."

When he was out of sight, Vegeta pushed Kakarot away. He hunched over and spat as if he was going to be ill. Finally getting the nerve to ask the question that had been puzzling him, Vegeta yelled, "Are you gay?!"

Always the devil's advocate, Kakarot shrugged, "And what would you say if I was?"

The prince stood up with a gruff sigh, "Well, I'm not. Damn it! For one, you didn't need to use your tongue, and, for another, you didn't need to fondle my balls!"

The bastard had the audacity to laugh, "Touchy, aren't we? And have you ever watched a movie with a kissing scene? Anyone knows to fake a kiss you have to really kiss. If it wasn't real then it wouldn't have worked. And, well, I thought the ball fondling was a nice touch.  Pun intended."

Vegeta was incredulous, "You have the nerve to joke? I have no idea what goes on in that fucked up head of yours so I'm making it clear now that I'm strictly a woman's man. Got it?"

Kakarot merely laughed again, "You know, particularly adamant homophobes are actually upset due to their own denial. Let's go back to my place." He grinned.

"I don't fucking believe this. When was the last time you got laid?"

"Far, far too long."

"Which explains your fascination with my sexuality," the prince observed.

"I could give you some good head," Kakarot teased.

Vegeta scoffed and turned away, "I'm sure you could."

A hand on his shoulder suddenly stopped him in his path. Kakarot forced him to look into his eyes. In a sombre voice, he declared, "Listen. Despite what you think, I do respect you. Sure we just snogged in front of a guy who basically had us at gun point. If you can't laugh at how ludicrous this has been, how do you expect to endure? Are we to despair and despond at any sign of adversity? Are we to submit simply because we're stubborn? Yes, I laugh at inappropriate times. Yes, I laugh in the face of infamy. How can we make more of life without such a conversion? It does not mean I'm ignorant of implications. Call it an act of courage or cowardice if you'd like, either way it doesn't change the outcome."

Vegeta shrugged the hand off of him, "Obviously and unfortunately."

They walked back to the flat in silence.

 


	7. seVEN

**Nowhere seVEN:**

He was on his back staring up at the water-damaged ceiling. His hands were behind his head, and one leg was crossing the other, ankle resting on knee. The Prince of Saiyans peered out the window at the muggy sky.

"Hey. Kakarot."

"Hm?" the younger man replied as he looked up from a magazine.

"Why don't we go out?"

The black-haired beamed and tossed his reading material onto the broken coffee table, "I thought you'd never ask! Oh, I have nothing special to wear."

Vegeta resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "I was thinking more along the lines of leaving town."

Kakarot's expression fell, and he slowly repeated, "Of leaving town..."

The brunet nodded in confirmation as he stood, "We could find a place that doesn't rain all the time."

"You don't want to go out there," Kakarot replied, unable to meet the other man's eye.

"Why?" Vegeta snapped sarcastically, "Afraid I'm going to leave you?" He caught the minute flinch at these words. Shocked, he stated, "Shit. You do think that."

In contrast, Kakarot burst with emotion, "You don't understand! You never have. I can't protect you, if you leave."

Baffled, the prince inquired, "Protect me from what?"

Kakarot inhaled deeply, covering his face with his palm, "From everything."

Damn him! Damn his riddles! Damn his sentimentality! Vegeta swiftly strode over and shoved the man back into the couch, "Protect me from everything? I’m not a child to be coddled, or some charity case to be pitied! How weak do you think I am? What kind of protection do you think you can offer? You didn't protect me when you took me to that basement. Which, by the way, how did you find those blueprints? Awfully convenient, wouldn't you say?"

"What are you insinuating?" his friend stared up at him, aghast.

"Give me a reason to trust you."

"What?"

"Give me a reason to trust you!" Vegeta commanded.

After a brief moment, Kakarot spoke calmly, yet firmly, "No."

"No?"

"You're not looking for a reason," was the next declaration, "You're looking for an excuse. And I will not commit to such a tenuous and poor foundation. If that's how you view me, then, well, you've made your decision, just don't expect me to agree or comply."

 


	8. 88888888

**Nowhere: 88888888**

He stumbled on some piece of metal protruding from the massive pile of junk he was crawling across. He tried to regain his balance and normally would have if it wasn't for his depleted strength. He hadn't had nourishment in a long while - too long for a Saiyan. He crashed unceremoniously and sat breathing. Sweat soaked his clothes and he dully thought a hot bath would be nice. In fact, it'd be nice if he had water to drink. Apparently though, this planet wanted to give the bare minimum. Air. That's all he had. Air. If he didn't get food soon, he knew he was in trouble.

Struggling to his feet, he continued his trek to the opposite side of the garbage heap. Maybe there was civilisation on his planet, he told himself. Yes, it's possible. You can be stranded and just be out of visual range of others.

On the other hand, people have chi, no matter how low.  
And he could not feel any chi.

There was no chi  
around him  
and no chi  
radiating from  
anything.

Vegeta shook his head. He extended his senses - reaching, searching. Where were the animals? No matter which direction he focused, or how far, it was all blank. What was this? Could it possibly be a planet for sale lacking life forms? That was a dangerous route to undertake, as destroying species of animal meant a guaranteed death of vegetation. It detracted from the value, so it was no longer common practice.

And since he was sitting in a junk yard on a mound of garbage that implied someone had dumped it here. The trash was fairly advanced technology as he glanced at it. Some of the parts even seemed to be from recent models of pods. Surely, someone owned this plot of land since scrap like this was valuable. With his resolve renewed, the prince stood. Just across the next hill there would be an open field leading up to a city, or a roadway. Maybe he'd even find someone out there scrounging through this mess.

Yeah, he'd be ok.

Then why did he feel so sick to his stomach?

Why did he have this deep-seated dread whenever he glossed over his surroundings? It likened to the sensation of being watched – that malevolent hint that tints one's perception with anxiety. Involuntarily, he shivered as cold wind blew against his damp body. He paused for only a moment before continuing on. How far was he now from the remains of his capsule? With no communication, food, or water, how long would he survive?


	9. n ine

**Nowhere:: n ine**

I’m drenched in sweat and aching, but that doesn’t stop the desire for more. Despite the burn in my muscles, I continue my set of push-ups. Why does this feel so normal? Well, I suppose it could be normal. I was fit when I came here so it makes sense that I must have been taking care of myself.

I hear the front door open and the bastard shouts out happily, “Vegeta!”

"In here!” I call back, finishing my rep before rising to get the door. Luckily, I had decided to do so because he slams the door open where I had been moments before. I’m not sure what pisses me off more: the fact that he could have hurt me or the complete disregard of privacy and etiquette.

I'm angry at him, so what should I do? I let loose and spit on him.

"Igittigit!" he yells while wiping the saliva off onto his coat, "What was that for, 'Geta?"

"Kakarot, what I'm about to say is so direly important that I'm only going to say it once. Never call me that again."

"Why? It's so cuuute," he croons.

I loudly prepare to gob him again, and he raises his arms in surrender. I turn and aim for the nearby ashtray instead. "There's more where that came from," I warn before leaning over to grab a towel from the floor.

Suddenly, his voice pipes up, "You have a _great_ ass."

Instead of mopping my face as intended, I snap the towel at him to stop his teasing, "So what if I do? What do you want? You marched in here calling my name."

His grin turns sly, "Baby, I wanna call _out_ your name if you know what I mean."

I clench my teeth so hard I think I may break something. My patience for his bullshit is at an end today. Four counts within a minute is well beyond my limit, so I do the only thing that seems appropriate and make a swing at his groin. Unfortunately, he seemed to anticipate such an action, and he jumps out of the way just in time.

"Alright, alright. You’re not in the mood, I get it. What I really wanted is for you to come with me. I found something."

The lilt in his voice is annoying, but getting out of the flat has a strong appeal. The entertainment value is poor within these scant cubic metres. "Very well, show me," I say as I grab a jacket and follow him out the door. He doesn't bother to lock it as he has nothing of real value in his flat. Anything he owns can be stolen, or so he's told me. In fact, he hopes for it. That way, he can go out and steal nicer things.

We go down the stairs, passing some familiar and unfamiliar faces on the way. We come to the landlord who says, "Slap me some skin." Kakarot leaps into the air and, when coming down, smacks his palm against the man's. He turns to me expectantly and I lightly clap our hands. "Your friend is a pussy," this guy says to my host. I growl and bring my hand down hard. "OW! Fuck!" the overweight man yells, shaking his hand and blowing on it.

"Yo, I didn't mean nothin' by it,” I do the best impression of a troubled-individual-from-the-slums stereotype as I can.

"It's alright," he says, "Maybe you're not such a queer, unlike my man here." He gestures to Kakarot who just looks embarrassed, yet flattered.  The landlord laughs.

"So you are gay," I say flatly.

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," he replies coyly. Bastard.

I return to our descent, not carefully examining my words before I speak them, "I never get a straight answer out of you." He chortles at this comment for obvious reasons. A severe look is enough to quiet him.

Kakarot says goodbye to his buddy-landlord and we continue on outside and down the street, avoiding the splashes of water from the cars. I used to like rainy days, but now I don't think I can stand to see another one for a long, long time.

We walk a few kilometres, I think. I let my mind wander the entire journey.

"Check this out," he says while opening a single, nondescript door on the backside of a building. Inside, there is nothing visible to the eye. Light just fades after a metre or so. I cock my head back and forth in an effort to make my eyes adjust.

"So?" I say, reaching in to feel around. The air is cooler inside, which doesn't surprise me. Between the rain and the ground level it was due to be an uncomfortable temperature.

"So?" he mocks, "So it's not in the blueprints. That's so."

Wow, not in the blueprints. Big deal. Has he never heard of renovations?

He hooks his arm around mine and drags me to the door, "Let's check it out!" I'm about to protest when we land inside.

It's oddly quiet in here, and our feet make little sound against the hard ground. He releases his hold on me, and I look around blindly. I wonder what type of flooring was used to have such an effect. I head back towards the door and run my hand across the wall. It's soft, almost ashen, and my fingertips hesitate as I'm unable to ascertain my response to this. My touch stutters before resuming my search for the light switch. On this barren wall, I note, "No light switch."

"Odd, isn't it?" Kakarot replies, his form silhouetted in the dim light from the door.

"Perhaps there's an overhead pull chain," I suggest, but boredom is creeping in and I try to place it in my intonation so that Kakarot will get the message and decide to end this silly expedition.

He wanders off into the darkness and I wait for him. I quickly become impatient.

"I want to leave, Kakarot!" I shout, but the only sound that returns is a faint repetition: "I want to leave, Kakarot!"

What is he doing? Trying to play hide and seek? I choose the direction I last saw him in and angrily stride into the darkness. After a moment, I grow weary of his games and I break into a run.

My feet pound the ground and I am very, very upset right now. What was he planning on finding here? It's an abandoned storage facility and nothing more. A growl bubbles in my throat, but never makes it to the air. Before it could, I came to the realisation that I had been sprinting in a place of pitch black – not exactly the safest choice to make. I stop in my tracks and hold absolutely still as I also realise I have found neither my eccentric companion nor a wall. "Kakarot?" I call out, startled as my voice reverberates.

The sound eventually decays, and I force myself to move forward. This time, however, I do so slowly and cautiously. Something whispers to the back of my mind like a latent instinct. Dread creeps into my chest, making it ache. "Kakarot?" I try again, and this time there is no audio reflection.

I can feel my heart pounding in my ears, and a part of me thinks about how foolish I'm acting. Yet the majority agrees, although for a vastly different reason. It's not being a fool for feeling fear; it's being a fool for brazenly entering this... location.

My head whips around to be confronted with a horrible truth.

No light. No light at all. No sound except my breath, just on the edge of infrasound.

I am lost.

This place.  
This place  
made of dark  
and that which is  
larger on the inside  
than the out.

My lungs expand and contract at a faster pace.

How do I know this?

I do an about-face again. Then again.

I know not where I'm going. I merely run, and run, and run.

 

But

am        I

run-       -ning

in          a

circle?

 

I feel like I am being swallowed, as if I am running forever deep into this maze, this horizontal abyss, this maw of judgment. The concept of infinity becomes more than words, transforming now into a tangible, menacing promise. I run aimlessly, futilely.

 

Maybe

            that

                        is

                                    what

                                                it

                                                            wants

                                                                        me

                                                                                    to

                                                                                                do...

 

                                                                                                Maybe

                                                                                    I

                                                                        am

                                                            not

                                           supposed

                                    to

                        leave

            this

place...

 

I am alone.

For the first time in a long time, I am truly afraid.

I am by myself, yet I can feel eyes on me. Eyes just watching. Waiting.  
Waiting for what?  
...A perfect moment.

 

Maybe  
it  
wants  
my  
sanity.

 

Maybe  
this  
thing  
wants  
suicide.

  


Is

 

Kakarot

 

dead?  


 

"KAKAROT!" I boom at the top of my lungs. I keep shouting, even when my voice becomes guttural and coarse.

I travel in a direction, but does it really matter which one?

This looming purgatory exposes the obvious:  
I will never know who I am.  
If I die, there will be nothing.  
This is my damnation.

I've never been spiritual, yet I'm instilled with this need to confess. This is my attempt at redemption as I speak to Kakarot, the darkness, the world, myself.

"I'm sorry," my speech is poignant, "I know it's stupid and doesn't make sense, but I treat you horribly because I like you. I have the knowledge that I've lost memories. You know that sensation when you have a word on the tip of your tongue? That feeling in your brain as it searches for the answer and nears the result, but still can't seem to find it? Every waking moment is like that for me. It's as if I can't recall a distinct memory, but I have a shrouded shape of it. Like how I know you're not the Kakarot I know. I think you're a bastard, but I also think you're a nice guy."

My voice dwindles, "I know you're a connection to my past. I need you. I need you despite your obnoxious gall and outrageous behaviour, but maybe... maybe that's also _why_ I need you. So you can show me that there's another way. So that you can help me leave this place."

Feeling drained, I sit on the floor. The longer the silence extends, the louder a wicked thought grows.

I pull my knees to my chest to keep warm. Still trying to ward off this phrase which grinds into my skull.

He's gone, it says, He's gone. He's gone. He's gone. He's gone. He's gone. HE'S GONE.

And then something touches me, jabbing into my side and crying out. After the initial fright, I calm because this is a person. "Kakarot?" I say hopefully.

"Vegeta!" is the reply.

I reach forward and grab onto the source of the voice, feeling fabric between my fingers. "It's me!" I affirm, urgency humming through my veins now.

Copying my behaviour, he latches onto me, "We need to get out of here."

"No shit!"

Propping ourselves up with each other, we walk cautiously in step. There is no further communication as we travel.

He stops abruptly and announces, "I felt a breeze." After a hesitation, he tugs at me, "This way!"

The doorway... melts into existence. As if we had simply been blind to it.

Too wide together, we break apart at the threshold and run with every bit of willpower we can muster. We ignore the icy jabs in our lungs and the painful numbness in our muscles. We only stop when we are inside his flat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although it should go without saying, the formatting is done intentionally.


	10. ten

**Nowhere: ten**  
  
My name.  
  
My name is Vegeta.  
  
Vegeta.  
  
Vegeta is my name.  
  
What's in a name?  
  
What is its purpose?  
  
What is my purpose when everything of me is gone?  
  
Why do I think of this instead of concentrating on how I'm choking on my own blood?  
  
Are memories more important than living?  
  
I don't know what I wanted to be when I grew up. I don't remember my parents - what they looked like, how they raised me. I don't remember if I had siblings - older or younger. I don't know if I had a profession. I'm not even certain of my hobbies and whether I was an amateur or an expert at them.  
  
Every bit of my past has been devoured by me, or this place - by both or neither.  
  
Faded. Leaving imprints. Holes. Amnesia?  
  
Once I knew a man whose name was Kakarot, but he wasn't the Kakarot I knew.  
  
I knew, or I know?  
  
This makes no sense.  
  
Maybe this is surrender. It feels like how my blood tastes. It reminds me that there is nothing to call my own, save these companions that are my nightmares. Glimpses of irrationality, fear, shame. Or maybe these are my memories. Maybe not knowing who I am is better than who I was.  
  
Then why do I lack the ability to aspire, to ascend?  
  
Kakarot... you warned me of this, didn't you? And I was too blind to see.  
  
But not now.  
  
I don't know if this place proves the existence of a god. Only a god could make this, but no god _would_ make this. What's the opposite side of a god? What's the balance? What's beyond mortal and immortal? Every living thing can perish.  
  
Please, I yield. Let me succumb to my antagonist. These emotions are too much to bear.  
  
I'm losing faith.  
  
Everything is reverting.  
  
Forgive me.  
  
…  
  
Kakarot, I wonder if you can hear me. I'd like for you to. I wouldn't want you to suffer alone, like me. Even if you're a liar, even though you withheld the truth from me, I believe that you cared. You protected me from death itself. You managed to make a different kind of darkness. Maybe I resented you for it. Seeing you, I saw everything I lost – no – misplaced.  
  
It is as if I've neglected parts of myself to the point where they're so rotted and in such disrepair that they can no longer be distinguished from one another. It's as if I'm merely shambles on the inside, the hollowed shell of a person. The skeleton of a soul.  
  
Oh, the sensation that arises at that particular thought... it is you, Kakarot. That feeling of lost equilibrium. The pitfall. I'll never be rid of you.  
  
I'm glad of it.  
  
You linger inside my head, like a wolf in sheep's clothing.  
  
Or an angel disguised as a demon.  
  
Can angels be cryptic? Do they bend the truth to spare pain? Would you tell me this wasn't all in my head even if it was? Would you lead me to believe this is a dream? That I could awaken anew? That the rain, fatigue, pain, and blood was just a benign mirage?  
  
What a blissful image.  
  
But what if I am dreaming and cannot wake? What could be done that hasn't already been done? What avenues could I attempt to explore then? How could I prevent myself from being further misguided?  
  
Struggling for the possibility of a possibility...  
  
And there's no one to help me but me. There's no one to save me except for myself. No family. No friends. Maybe they're dead. Maybe they're farther away than I could ever possibly imagine.  
  
And if I had a family, then what kind? Were we close? What kind of extended relatives did I have? Maybe I had a wife. Maybe we had kids. Maybe it was a good life where we had a game night and always ate dinner together. But maybe it was bad. Maybe I hated the bitch, and maybe we fought all the time in front of the kids. Maybe I hit them, or she hit them, and maybe they hit us back. Maybe we took advantage of each other, verbally jabbing on a daily basis, too wrapped in our own worlds and priorities and too self-absorbed to take care of one another and work in a harmonious unit. It could've been a loving arrangement, or it could've been a cycle of abuse. Or better. Or worse.  
  
Ah... my blood is thick... never noticed how thick before...  
  
...Kakarot?  
  
Can I give up so easily? I'm so tired. My will is evaporating as quickly as my memories.  
  
I don't think I can walk. My lungs burn, my throat is hoarse; a metallic tang is on my lips and tongue. My nose inhales the scent of decay. My figurative slow-death implanted into my senses by my mind?  
  
How long has it been? How long have I been lying here? It's so hard to tell when the sky is the same bleak grey all the fucking time. Does it... even matter?  
  
I'm... losing ground.  
Breaking inside...  
  
Breaking...  
  
...again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been busy with work and forgot to update last Friday. Sorry about that.


	11. e l-e v-e-n

**Nowhere: e l-e v-e-n**

disappointment YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW  
fragments/unforgiving LOST AND WAYWARD, I HAVE, YOU HAVE, NO ONE HAS CHOSEN  
THE PATH OF RIGHTEOUSNESS  
unbidden/unmanageable/broken THERE IS NO FATE, NO DESTINY, JUST COINCIDENCE

YOUR  
OWN WORST ENEMY IS  
\--------

 

i  
can'tholdhold hold HOLD hollllld on     onon  on

 

**WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?**

 

(Why not?) Take it all apart. Tear it down. Put it up. Destruction is the key to every mystery. Hatred is perfectly normal, right? That includes self-loathing, yes? Who am I to know who I am? Who is anyone to know? It's so cold.

Cold just like winter, like Kakarot's tiny flat, on a rainy day.  
Alone like a prince, a prince of a dead kingdom, with no disciples.  
Afraid unlike others - no innocence, no nothing - my life is nothing.  
I will never leave, I will live forever here, if I am alive.

You betrayed me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although it should go without saying, the formatting is done intentionally.


	12. 12

**Nowhere: 12**

A quick shake brought the prince out of peaceful slumber. "Sleep well?" a slightly muffled voice asked. He opened his eyes blearily, blinking away his sleepiness. Focusing on a figure above him, an orange glow became a beacon in the darkness. With a near-silent huff, he rolled over, intent on falling back into the realm of unconsciousness. "Hey, Vegeta," a quiet voice called out, "Wakey wakey, let's get nakey..."

That woke him up. His eyes immediately snapped open. He flung his fist out, aiming towards the soft, warm glow. A smack was heard and was accompanied by a loud, "Ow!" He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and squatted more than sat due to the lack of box springs. "The thanks I get for my hospitality," Kakarot's voice mock-pouted.

"Hospitality!" Vegeta groggily growled out, "I don't think it was very hospitable when you jammed your tongue down my throat last night."

"Ha! I knew it! I knew you'd still be bent out of shape because of that, and that's why I was waking you up. You see, I'd like to make it up to you."

"Let me guess - no - hope that you're going to draw a bath and decide to take the toaster with you while it's plugged in?"

"No, uh, it's better than that."

"I get to drop the toaster in?"

"No, I'm going to treat you."

"Treat me like what? A sexual object for you to toy with?"

"Nah, I'll do that later. But for now I'm going to treat you to a night on the town! Well, afternoon too, but you get the point."

"And what makes you think that I'm going to agree to this?"

"Well," Kakarot's voice turned sly, and suddenly Vegeta was crushed against the larger man, "We could just stay right here together..."

Bursting from the hold he was in, Vegeta shot up, nearly tripping over himself as he stumbled towards the doorway, "Oh shut up. Let's go already if we're going to go."

Kakarot bound past him and went to his flat door, opening it for his guest, "After you." Vegeta grunted and grabbed a jacket that was slung over a lamp. He slipped on the piece of stained denim, eyeing the black-haired man wearily. The other only grinned broadly, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

As Kakarot shut the door, some neighbours two doors down began arguing quite loudly and obnoxiously. "Not _again_ ," the younger man sighed, marched down the hall, and banged on the door. "YOUR WIFE DID NOT HIDE YOUR GLASSES. YOU LOST THEM IN THE SEAT CUSHION OF YOUR GREEN CHAIR," he bellowed through the door.

A pause before a shout of triumph came from within, "Hot damn! How'd you know they were there? Thanks, sonny!"

Kakarot motioned for them to leave and they began the descent of the staircase. "How did I know they were there?" he rolled his eyes then gave his head a shake, "Maybe because the same thing happens every week." And they were off.

They travelled past the Apothecary, down to Holmescraft Avenue, then took the underground train. They had never taken public transportation together, and Vegeta hadn't at all. The prince was not impressed by the number of new odours he discovered in the confined space. Half of the lights were burnt out and the other half of them flickered as if loose in their sockets. The level of degradation was probably at an all time high. "It's a miracle at all that the damn thing runs," Vegeta silently mused, "It's as if it's held together by prayer."

Kakarot, on the other hand, seemed relaxed. He leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling with his legs stretched out. Vegeta kept his arms folded and his gaze fixated on the floor. He did not wish to accidentally instigate some unwanted attention.

A crackling loudspeaker sparked to life, announcing the 12th Street and Abbey stop, though it was barely understandable. Kakarot got up and stretched, nudging the brunet to indicate he should prepare for departure.

The train came to an abrupt halt, and Vegeta careened into Kakarot who caught him with ease. He chuckled at the older man, "Need a little help?" He curled an arm around Vegeta's lower back while his free hand reached for the prince's closest arm - to guide him as if he was elderly and needed the assistance.

"Get off me!" Vegeta hissed, pushing him away. Kakarot tumbled backward, almost hitting a bystander.

"I was just kidding," the sable-haired grunted while rising to his feet and ignoring looks from all around. The doors opened and Vegeta stepped off of the demon vehicle, watching Kakarot flock to avoid the crowd.

"Okay, it's not far from here," he happily announced, apparently over the shoving incident. Whether he was or not was a different matter entirely, but Vegeta would rather simply ignore it so he nodded in acknowledgment.

The rain lifted to a light drizzle, the overcast almost breaking. Sunlight threatened to spill onto the festering world below, but Vegeta turned his attention to the ground. He knew the clouds would not dissipate. He knew that the rain would return, whether if in minutes or hours.

"We're here!" Kakarot announced while spreading out his arms in a gesture of "ta da." Vegeta allowed his gaze to rise, and in front of him was an old, baroque styled building, or at least what he assumed was baroque. Columns littered the large block of carved stone, especially on the steps. From the rusted sign planted on the filthy white marble, Vegeta deduced that this was a "Museum of Science and Industry," except some of the letters were missing:

MUSE__ OF _CIEN__ AND __DUST__

Kakarot was bounding up the stairs - his trench coat swaying in a rhythm of his movement. He purposely hit all the puddles in his path without any sign of worry. Vegeta cautiously jogged after him, careful to ensure he wouldn't slip on the slick rock. They reached the plateau and slowed down, leisurely approaching the front doors which were heavy copper and bronze. The copper was now green due to the passage of time as well as the weather conditions. Ornate designs covered them from hinge to hinge; even the handles didn't escape the fanciful shaping. The two men opened the doors with slight difficulty and set their eyes upon the inside.

Dim lights drowned the lobby in a soft, almost timid glow. The amber tint, as well as the stillness of the air, gave the feeling of age. It was as if they were in a crypt, except at room temperature.

Kakarot strolled up to the front desk, causing his footsteps to ring down distant halls. He paused at the unmanned station and peered around for any signs of life. "Guess no one's here," he concluded as he turned around to expose a huge grin he was now sporting, "That means we get the whole place to ourselves." He immediately veered towards the left hall, skipping till he reached the first display.

"This is the evolution of the spoon," the black-haired man read aloud. He stared, dumbfounded, at the display. Vegeta joined him a moment later much to the prince's chagrin.

"How fascinating," Vegeta said dryly - flatly. His eyes scanned over the time line and visual aids with detached interest.

"Right," his companion agreed before slowly side-stepping, "Let's move on." His strafing led the pair to another display. "Here is an authentic phonograph, complete with a record. These devices were used to play music over one hundred generations ago."

"Exciting," Vegeta retorted.

"To function these machines one places the needle within the outermost groove of the record and cranks the handle," the younger male concluded, then abruptly hopped over the railing. Vegeta raised an eyebrow as his friend examined the antique device. As per the instructions, he lifted the needle, put it in the specified place, and cranked the handle for a good ten seconds or so before he released his grip and stood back.

Static crinkled from the golden-bronze cone.

Then...

Noise.

A metallic droning sound burst through the hallways, echoing and reverberating within the vast monument of architecture. It was as if two dying birds were crying for help towards one another. No, not birds... something... else... with feathered wings...

Vegeta winced at the sound as it triggered something inside of him, something he couldn't place. Kakarot looked bewildered, but not nearly as startled as his counter-part.

"It sounds unnatural," Vegeta thought, his eyebrows knit together in concentration. "Kakarot," the brunet called out, "Turn it off!" His command wasn't obeyed because his voice hadn't actually made it past his lips. His heart was pounding in his chest. Unnatural... The room was spinning, in focus, then gone in a blur, then wrongly proportioned, then gently gliding, moving, flowing, fading, coming, going... gone and there in no particular order.

WHERE AM I?  
WHAT HAPPENED? 

this is your greatest failure yet, vegeta.  
if only you could laugh at your mistakes.

Then... the museum.

Kakarot had disengaged the needle and was climbing back over the rope when the brunet realised something horrible had just happened, yet he was clueless as to what and to what degree.

He shook it off as his companion returned to his side. They continued their trek to the end of the hall, eventually investigating the second. One particular display caught both of their interest.

"This display is of a layer from the body of James Van Epstein," Kakarot murmured. Vegeta could not help but stare. There was something strangely intriguing, yet slightly off-putting about a body donated to science. A layer of a once living person - a slice of skull, skin, tissue, muscle, and brain - showcased. A piece of a person for the masses to gawk at. It didn’t disgust him, but it did unnerve him, yet he didn't know why.

"Let's go down the third hall," Vegeta suggested sluggishly. From the corner of his eye he saw his friend nodding. He forced himself away from the preserved remains and led the duo towards the final hallway.

Upon entering, he blinked several times as if doubting his sight, and then it was confirmed when Kakarot spoke. "Where's all the displays?" he asked while twirling around to see empty cases in every direction. The room was completely barren save for the dust collecting in every nook and cranny. Spot lights cast down upon nothing. Not even the plaques survived this void of presentation - at least - engraved plaques. The younger man released a heavy sigh, "Let's go. I'm getting kind of hungry anyways."

Vegeta concurred, trailing after his friend. Something called to him, like an itch in his mind, or a hint to a mystery. A powerful impulse coursed through him and he yielded to it, tilting his head back. Across the vaulted, arched ceiling high above, he could faintly make out a mural painted in black upon black. He felt compelled to say nothing.

On their way out, the prince abruptly halted in his path. Kakarot looked back at him curiously, taking the time to inhale a long drag. The elder appeared to be examining something, and when he stood up straight again Kakarot could see that it was a small box which was resting on a stand. He squinted slightly to make out the wording.

With precise aim, Vegeta brought his elbow down onto the donation box. The wood crunched beneath the force easily due to its rotting state. The lid and lock went crashing to the floor, and, without hesitation, Vegeta reached inside to pilfer his heart out. He counted the change in his hands. "It could pass for a meal," he announced before putting the money into his pocket. They left in silence, the heavy doors clanging behind them, as if locking themselves. Vegeta had a feeling that they were the museums only visitors in a very long time. He also felt, for some reason, that they'd be the last.

He came. He saw. He stole.

They walked a few blocks, dodging into the nearest bus stop when the rain picked up. The warped plastic provided minimal shelter and several others had already squeezed themselves onto the bench. Kakarot and Vegeta stood in close proximity, trying to keep the cold out. Thankfully, the public transit arrived in a few scarce minutes. The two men paid the fee as they got on and took residence in the front, standing across from one another regardless that there were some available seats. About halfway through the trip, the black-haired one began to hum a soft, almost-sweet tune. Vegeta glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but continued to look at nothing, afraid that - perchance - he'd start another hunt, like what happened previously. That day...

Why did he even run? He could've stopped them, he thought. Then he realised how ridiculous that sounded, even in his head, but unfortunately he couldn't halt the resounding irrationality that bounced between fight and flight. There was too little that made sense. For instance, here was Kakarot before him, but this was not the Kakarot he knew. The Kakarot he knew was a third-class--

He shook his head a bit as if to clear it, and his eyebrows knitted in confusion and concentration. Kakarot was a third class... A third-class what? The noun eluded him. He was a third-class. A third-class. Third-class... A third-class what!?

His mental drama abruptly came to an end as the very person he was thinking about began to murmur the tune.

"Oh, sing sweet nightingale... sing sweet nightingale..."

Vegeta sighed silently, exhaling through his nose. Everything was too muddled up, too real to be fake, and too fake to recognise. It was like living in a dream - having no control. But is there control when one is awake? He attempted to organise his thoughts in order to give himself a base, to give himself... comfort.

How humiliating.

"Feeling humiliated..?!" the words burst up his throat and past his lips before he even realised he was speaking out loud.

Kakarot's soft serenade abruptly broke off as he heard his shorter companion speak, "Hmm? What's that?" Vegeta shook his head and looked away from the other man, embarrassed by his own behaviour.

"'What's that?' indeed," the prince sulked internally. He knew what is _was_ , but he didn't know why he'd spoken it. It was a sudden phrase in his mind, over-powering, dominating for no reason other than to be spoken. It came smoothly, as if the situation permitted it. There was emotion with those words. Anger. So much anger. However, he felt none of it, as if he was immune to its effects. Maybe numb. It was if the words themselves had become a brief embodiment of rage and they used him as a host. Stranger still, he knew the answer to the question. As soon as he noticed it within his grasp, he held it, and repeated it numerous times in an attempt to decipher it.

"You don't even know what humiliation is."

Humiliation. What was it? An emotion.

He tried to think how it felt to feel humiliated.  
But realised he couldn't remember.  
            Oh god... 

            Could he even feel at all...?

The bus began to decrease in speed and Kakarot confirmed that this was their destination. The vehicle came to a complete stop before opening its doors. "Vegeta," the black-haired man's voice broke the brunet from his inner pondering.

The two travellers strode out onto the sidewalk, free from the metal confines. Kakarot led them down a small stretch of specialty shops until they turned towards a particular place that had a canopy overhanging. The taller of the two held the door open, "Despots first." Vegeta pulled his lips back in a snide sort of smirk, as if to emphasise sarcasm, but he accepted and stepped through the door into a rather dimly lit entryway. He glanced around at the burnt out bulbs before turning his gaze in front of him where a podium stood with a middle-aged woman behind it chewing on a piece of gum. Kakarot took the initiative and told her, "Booth for two."

The woman grabbed two menus and guided them to the far back left corner, seating them across from one another. Vegeta got the distinct feeling that she wanted them as far away from her as she could manage. Kakarot thought it was sweet of her to get them such a secluded spot where they wouldn't be bothered. A waitress came by to take their orders. Kakarot smiled jovially at her and set down his menu, interlacing his fingers, "I'll have the special and a root beer float."

"We only have diet root beer right now," the girl replied.

"A diet root beer float then."

"And the ice cream is sugarless, 'cause that's all we could get on short notice."

"I'll be daring," Kakarot insisted, "Bring it on."

The young lady shrugged and picked up his menu; then, she turned to Vegeta, "And what'll you have?"

Vegeta folded up his menu and passed it to her, "A number two with no mayo. And some coffee. Black." She scribbled something down on a pad of paper and walked off.

Now the prince had been waiting with dread for this particular part. He loathed the mere thought of small talk with the other man. It was probably because he was worried that the younger would flirt with him, but there was also a distinct possibility that it'd be because Kakarot would say something he might not want to hear, regarding things he did not even want to think about, let alone discuss. He glanced up to see the younger staring idly at a painting on the wall. When the younger began to hum again, Vegeta traced a pattern in the polished wooden table with his fingertips.

Suddenly Kakarot's voice broke the quiet air, his voice smooth, almost soothing, "Oh, sing sweet nightingale... sing sweet nightingale... high above me..." Vegeta slouched down, trying to hide from the attention which was suddenly bestowed upon them. Oblivious, Kakarot continued to sing on.

Vegeta could take no more of what he viewed to be punishment. Leaning over and hissing through his clenched teeth, he asked, "Are you quite through?!"

Kakarot smiled at him warmly, "Oh, sing sweet nightingale... sing sweet nightingale... oh... sing... sweet..." Beaming with pride, he rested his elbows on the edge of the table, declaring, "I'm done now. What's the matter? Don't you like my song?"

Vegeta massaged his temples, closing his eyes, "You're a man singing about a _nightingale_ for fuck's sake."

Kakarot grinned widely as he crossed his arms - obviously not fazed by the implications, "Yes. So?"

Vegeta looked up at him and rolled his eyes while mumbling, "I shouldn't have expected more from you."

The younger man leaned back into the booth and a frown crept onto his features, "It holds special meaning for me, Vegeta."

The prince raised an eyebrow, letting his head rest in one hand as the other laid on the table, "Oh, does it?"

The other man's features darkened a bit more, "Are you insinuating that my voice is horrible?" Vegeta stared blankly at him, not sure exactly how to respond. The black-haired one extended his arms and sung loudly for the royal man, "I can't stop this feeling deep inside of me! Boy, you just don't realise what you do to me!"

Vegeta flushed crimson immediately, "Shh! Kakarot!"

Unwilling to listen, his friend stood up to place one foot on the table top, "Your lips are sweet as candy - yeah! - the taste is on my mind! Boy, you keep me thirsty for another cup of wine!"

"Kakarot, sit down before I deck you!"

Grinning from ear to ear, his companion obeyed, but only after bowing slightly to the applause he received, "See? They liked my singing, Vegeta."

The brunet shifted sideways in his seat and he looked up at the ceiling, thinking, "This is much worse than small talk."

Thankfully, the waitress arrived with their orders which she set on the table. "A special, a root beer float, a number two, and a cup of coffee," she listed.

Vegeta dove into his sandwich and stopped on the first bite, not even severing the piece completely from the rest of the sandwich. He put the food item back down, "I asked for no mayo." The waitress took off the top slice of bread, which held the mayo, wiped off the white cream on the edge of the table and put the grain product back on. "Why... thank you," Vegeta said sarcastically.

"No problem," the girl said with smile that matched his voice. She promptly departed.

Laughing, Kakarot commented, "I saw that on a commercial once. Dude, props to her for having the balls to do it." Ignoring his friend's plight, he took out a fork and dug into his meal. After a few bites, however, it became his turn to complain, "This is so nasty. Seriously." He ate a few more bites, then talked with his mouth full, "This is worse than barf. I mean, well, fuck..." Still he ate, "Ugh, I've eaten things that were more toxic than this and this still manages to have a more revolting flavour."

Vegeta finally snapped at him, "Then why do you eat it?"

"Well, for one, I'm really that hungry," Kakarot finished it off, "and for another, there's just some things you don't understand about me, Vegeta."

The words were a trigger to something inside his head.  
Another reminder.  
This Kakarot was not his Kakarot.  
A known stranger, an unknown friend.  
What anomaly would permit such distortion?

"Tell me," the Prince of Saiyans found himself speaking. His words were slow and deliberate now - oily even.

"Hmm?" was the reply.

"Tell me the truth. About this place. About you."

Kakarot first raised an eyebrow, then a sly smirk spread across his lips.

Several moments passed in silence.

His voice came as an almost-whisper, barely audible over the other conversations in the restaurant, "The flat that I live in... I murdered the previous owner." Vegeta gaped at the dark expression his companion wore. Somehow, in his mind, all his previous associations were shot to hell. Part of his foundation crumbled before him. The shock disoriented him. Kakarot was not innocent? Kakarot committed murder? Impossible.

But why? Why were there associations in the first place? Why would-

"He did something so terrible that I had to do it. It was only what was right to do."

Vegeta breathed again, "...Self-defence?"

"You could say that," Kakarot's face brightened slightly, yet somehow not in a positive manner, "Look, he gave me this." He shrugged off his coat and lifted his shirt so that it bunched around the collar. Across the pale, toned plane of his chest was a long, jagged scar that was discoloured darker than the rest of the skin. It spanned diagonally, starting at the top of the left pectoral and ending under the right side of his ribcage. The brunet stared at the memory of an injury while noting how strange the blemish's shape was – wondering what could have possibly caused it.

Vegeta felt like shit, all of the sudden. The kind of feeling, he imagined, you'd receive from pissing in the holy water only to sober up and realise what you had done. Irrevocable, uncomfortable, and noteworthy.

"...I'm done if you're done."

The other nodded once in response, "Okay."

They left without paying.


	13. thir----

**Nowhere: thir----**

Vegeta sat -------------------------------------------- Lightning flashed erratically, -------------------------------. ---------hate --------------------- scared. ------------------------- building had him completely freaked, he had never felt more --------------------, and somehow he could --- accept that. ------------------------ felt a presence beside him. A timid hand rested on his shoulder, ---------------------------. Vegeta closed his eyes as ---------------------- his chest. ------------------------ which soothed the prince ------------------------------------- Hands -------------------------------------------------skin. For once ----------- safe, and he could ---------------out consequence. He ----------------------------------------------------------------------- his -high. Kakarot smiled, himself feeling very calm. He hadn't felt -------------------------------- remember. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- soft and -------------------------------. Disbelief reined his --------, but it was--- --pleasant- It was rather instead -------------------- Kakarot---------------------, Vegeta stared. There ----------------------------- scar, and the brunet -------- how it got there -------. He ---------------------------touch-- --. Kakarot ---------------------------- his hands instantly -------------------------------------------- and he -------------------------------. Vegeta gasped in surprise, but ------- resist, -----------------------------------------warmth. Fingers -------------------------The thunder crackled lowly, no longer seemingly ---ressive. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------safety--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------no exceptions----------------------------------------------- exception, Kakarot. Was it possible? Somehow he believed it ------------------ in some sort of ---------------- ---- -----------------------------------------------------------------------------. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Kakarot-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------thoughts regarding ----------------- were----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------. Vegeta slept soundly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formatting is intentional.


	14. F(our)t»een.

**Nowhere: F(our)t** » **een.**

Rearrangement.

So easy to describe. Such a simple description. Such utter pain or joy from the act, not to mention everything in between and beyond.

Rearrangement has so many possibilities. So many things can occur - can range from simple to intricate, and one is capable of masquerading as the other. For him, it brought upon something unbearable: the shifting of an entire perspective.

Denial was not a viable option. To not accept was another thing all together, and, as he so often did, he relied upon the failsafe. When he rejected, then it usually followed that he wasn’t inquisitive. However, as the saying went, “Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.”  
  
It was further complicated by the complete inanity in trying to assemble appropriate questions. But it would happen anyway. He was too accustomed to his thoughts being his only real company.

The snowflakes gently fell through the stagnant air, collecting on the dry grass and slowly concealing it. The ice particles drifted down, landing on his exposed skin as well - melting at the contact. He thought of how every individual snowflake was supposedly unique - how every one of them was blessed with that gift. Out of all their vast numbers, how could there not be more identical ones? From his vantage point, they all appeared the same.

He sighed deeply and made his breath a mass of dancing swirls in the afternoon air. He clutched his arms tighter against his chest and dipped his chin down to his collarbone.

The prince wondered if something here viewed him – people - like he saw the snowflakes: tiny, indiscernible, insignificant.

His clothing, not made for harsh conditions, made him long for the warmth of Kakarot's flat. It saddened him to think of his folly of traveling alone and distrusting the other man. Kakarot had actively tried to keep him out of danger, but the idea that he needed to be protected also irked him. He regarded this notion of protection as confining and insulting, causing him to act recklessly out of spite. So he had waited for the proper window of opportunity and slipped away into the unknown.  
  
He slowed a bit as he approached a fence to get a better look. It was difficult to determine the age of the wooden posts, and the barbed wire offered little insight too. He uncoiled begrudgingly, the cold making his joints and muscles stiff. It was an effort to grasp the pole securely, and another act of willpower to safely hoist himself up and over to the other side. The entire affair caused him to collapse onto the ground. Though tired and weary, being prostrate offered little comfort as the snow-littered ground only served to chill him further.

Grunting, Vegeta forced himself into a sitting position, drawing his knees up to rest his head against them.

It was not as if he was a stranger to travel. Leaving Kakarot behind was born from a drive to divest himself of all that he knew now in order to replace it with his past – to fill his head and heart with things he could not name. Despite being rescued by an enigmatic, elusive sable-haired bastard, he felt an underlying current of intrigue and satisfaction which exonerated the younger male.

His eyelids drooped as his consciousness fluttered from one state to the next, back and forth. He was completely fatigued, battling against exhaustion for an innumerable time.  
  
He didn’t want to rest here. He didn’t want to yield to the demands of his withered stamina. He didn’t want to face the implications of his flight.

It was weakness. It was failure. And if he did not recover, if he did not excel, if he did not succeed then he would surely perish. This is what propelled his movement. This is what kept him going.

Vegeta unwillingly slept.

Rearranged. Wholly unaware.


	15. 15. Fifteen.

**Nowhere:: 15. Fifteen.**

Little prince, you trudge up those steps with determination though you are riddled with anxiety. Afraid at nothing and everything, you find strength at the notion of halted depravity.

You lost prince, so full of resolve, you blind yourself to danger and catastrophe. Impending judgment will ignore your screams, and your loneliness will amplify the ringing.

Upwards, you march towards your fate, completely unaware that you are defenceless. Your lack of guard is amusing, little prince.

Poor, misguided creature. So unfortunate.

This act will pass. You too shall pass, little prince. Your stay has been a fleeting moment, your departure an eternity.

It is agony, is it not, little prince? That your efforts are wasted as much as yourself, that lurking above reflects what you have become.

Little prince, the truth is a self-fulfilling prophecy, a destiny written and arranged by the deranged like an alchemy of a petulant decree and an unbidden burden.

This is your overture, your encore, your prelude and postscript.

The bell tolls, little prince, and no one hears your pitiful, demeaning shriek as you fall, fall, fall into the chasm of decimated dreams.

What a disappointment you are.


	16. SIXTEEN

**Nowhere - SIXTEEN**

Cradling his broken flesh, he pushed himself up off the ground. Though disoriented, he was aware that an unavoidable occurrence was drawing nearer, punctuating its foreboding mass. He forced down the pointlessness just like he was swallowing his own blood.

Eyes opened in order to find how vision faired. The darkness made it nigh impossible to tell. Nausea was induced when his head swam. Everything hurt so much he felt like throwing up organs.

He collapsed to the floor that was both sticky and slick at once. Shock was fading from his system, but it was replaced by vertigo. Staring up felt so much like staring down.

His throat constricted while choking on a sound.

What was happening? Was it his time? He wondered what he meant by time anyway.

What was keeping him alive? Keeping him together?

Self identity was lost alongside the dissipation of optimism. Fleeting ideals and expectations of life winked out of existence, leaving behind a sensation of dishonesty. The betrayal of this crypt, this morgue, this tomb only further instilled the disconnection.

A dream, a fantasy, or a hallucination. The difference was unimportant.

Painfully, yet numbing, the inky blackness crept over him, through him, in him. The blood was forgotten and replaced by a cold that ate at his innards. Torturous freedom ate at him, preserving, killing, reinventing. Freedom of the most divine sort, unparalleled in its brutality. Gone were the inhibitions. Gone were the responsibilities. With nothing to spare and nothing to claim, he was freer than he thought possible. But at what cost? The denial of normalcy?

What was normal?  
What was _this_? 

In the darkness, he shifted.

In opposition, the air condensated around him.

The sharp tang of blood invaded his nostrils. Was it his own? Yet how could it be if he wasn't injured?

"Shut up, Vegeta."

It was fainter than a whisper, like the way you hear in a dream. He opened his mouth to reply, but it felt like his voice had congealed.

"If you think this is something to be proud of, you're gonna learn."

He could no longer differentiate if his eyes were open or not.

"You're gonna pay... someday..."

He would make pretend he was who he said he was. At least, that would bide him some more time. But he knew that soon enough he would need an escape route. A neutral position would only cause him to be truly lost.


	17. .seventeeN .17

**Nowhere: .seventeeN .17**

Left, right, left, right, for figuratively ad infinitum. This simple action occupied the dead time - the span between this now and the now of the future.

His breath was a mist in the air. Behind the white puffs exhaled, the landscape altered, but slowly, languidly, almost imperceptibly. Stretching across the plane were sporadic rows of stone columns surrounded by scarce and scattered patches of dry, dead grass as brown as caramel.

The further he walked the less invasive his breath became until the air matched its hue. A wave of vast disorientation hit him. It caused him to pause and hold his head. When he righted himself he was taken aback by a sudden apparition. The cessation of lung movement and the nip of frostbite went unnoticed as all attention was directed towards an uncomfortable object.

A structure vastly ornate stood proudly, outlined by a haze of muted clouds looking dank and yellow. The promise of precipitation loomed in the blotchy depths and cast strange shadows on the tremendous, Gothic construction. It could have been a monument to the glory of civilization. It reminded him of a cathedral, yet it seemed much more like a house of mourning than a house of praise.

The atrocity beckoned him, almost frightening him with the erosion of willpower. He shifted to pivot, but one foot jutted forward, and, not to be outdone, the other foot copied. Pitifully, he ignored the risk he placed himself in by pressing forward to explore the bowels of this building.

Tendrils of fog crept and curled across the ground, weaving around his legs like some fluid creature. Portentousness gripped him – terrorised him. His head tilted back to gaze upward. The towers shrank into the distance of the sky until the clouds ate them. Merely trying to fathom the summit nearly made him swoon. He caught his balance while recovering from the dizzy spell.

There were no birds, nor scavengers of any kind.

Since leaving the city – and Kakarot – behind, he hadn't encountered another life form. The solitude was taking its toll, and he strode quickly to compensate for the thought.

Its monumental size had misguided his optics and it took longer than the brunet had estimated to arrive.

He stood before it, finally.

Hands lifted and extended towards the stone wall. Forcibly, he broke a layer of resilient, silken thread filled with dirt and debris. An unseen pressure weighed upon him as he located a door behind the tacky substance. The enormity of the threshold was staggering, yet he saw no handles to gain entrance. Pushing hard, Vegeta found his efforts fruitless. Inspecting further he noticed exactly why he could not open the door.

It was so simple.

It was not a door.

It was a facsimile. The engravings of which seemed to mock him as if it was his fault he could no decipher them. Bizarre and faint as it was, he experienced a sense of rejection. The sensation was bitter and made him feel as if some judgment had been sentenced on his behalf and without his knowledge.

A feeling manifested itself transforming into a burning, angry desire. He had to rid himself of this facade. He wanted it in ruins. He wanted it burnt and demolished. He wanted to revel in destruction. The feeling was altogether familiar which both perplexed him and allowed him a type of respite.


	18. 18

**Nowhere: 18**

"I hate to say this, and I mean, I really hate to say this," he began rather reluctantly, "but it’s unavoidable. I don't have any clean clothes to wear."

Kakarot’s face began to blossom a grin, but he quickly and obviously restrained it. After a second, his lips parted to deliver what would undoubtedly be a crass joke, yet he apparently thought better of it and instead offered a more genuine smile. “Let’s see what we can do,” he offered lightheartedly, gesturing for the prince to follow, which he did. The short trek to the other end of the hall felt too short and Vegeta stared at the door of the main bedroom with a mild sense of trepidation. Kakarot opened the door marginally, then placed both hands on the wood and gave a good shove. The clearance angle increased a few degrees and allowed Vegeta a glimpse within. What little he saw was a mess, like the rest of the flat.

Entering the room only increased the possibility of claustrophobia while decreasing his comfort level. Vegeta scanned while Kakarot searched. The box springs for the bed were upright and leaning against the left corner of the room while the mattress was a lumpy, half-bent heap crammed against it leaving only room for one to sleep “comfortably”. The dresser on the back wall had most of its drawers open or falling out, and clothes dangled from the wooden edges. Whether they were half-drug out or flung there was anyone’s guess. Cartons and packages empty of cigarettes were scattered everywhere, but the place was devoid of any remnants of the vile cancer sticks, as no filter was in sight. Men’s sophisticates were half concealed beneath detritus that spilled out from the wardrobe on the right side of the room. They could have actually been magazines of other natures, but Vegeta merely assumed and didn't bother to look closely to confirm or deny his suspicion. Towels and robes bunched up behind the door causing the jam.

Climbing rather carefully over the mounds of junk, the black-haired man went through the dresser drawers while Vegeta patiently waited at the threshold. A few minutes later, and after passing the smell test, Kakarot handed him several articles to compose at least one working outfit, even if it had to be temporary, “These should work for now.”

The prince began to inspect each piece critically. "No way," Vegeta instantly retaliated when he got to the underwear.

"What? What's wrong?” came the earnest reply.

"This," Vegeta growled menacingly, "I'm not wearing this." He held up a few pairs of black cotton briefs.

"Why not? What's wrong with them?" Kakarot asked, looking naturally and honestly confused.

The brunet glared at him, "There has to be something else."

"No offence, but you probably won’t fit into anything else," Kakarot matter-of-factly responded with a shrug. The positively dangerous glare he received caused him to recant his statement, “I meant you have a smaller waist is all! I gave you the stuff with the best elastic. C’mon, they’re not a big deal. Besides, they say black's the new pink. And chicks like pink."

"Whatever," Vegeta snapped, storming off to the guest room to get dressed. He wondered for a moment if he should go commando or not, but, after standing with the briefs half-pulled up for roughly a minute while internally debating, he felt stupid for his indecision and merely finished the process. The other clothing was very inoffensive - a black t-shirt and some plain grey sweats with a drawstring. "The shower's been free," Vegeta reminded the other man as he padded into the living area.

"Oh yeah! I got distracted by your clothing crisis,” Kakarot explained as he leapt up and hustled towards the bathroom, “Thanks!”  
  
The brunet headed for the kitchen with the intention of assembling something to slake his hunger. There were times where it felt like nothing would fulfill him and he ate past the point where a normal person would become sick. He supposed he just had an unusually high metabolism. Although it seemed like he contained that energy more efficiently as well since he could go stretches at a time without a meal. Kakarot was oddly nonchalant about food quality outside his domicile, but nothing in the fridge was disgustingly decayed. Some of the cupboards may have something stale, but nothing present was rotten, moldy, or tempting a poisoning if consumed. Upon first discovering this, Vegeta was relieved. Now, he appreciated the simplicity of making a sandwich.  
  
He could hear the shower come on while he finished gathering supplies. About half way through his task, the younger man’s voice melodiously fought the downpour, “Does he love me? I wanna know. How can I tell if he loves me so? Is it in his eyes? Oh no, you'll be deceived. Is it in his eyes? Oh no, he'll make believe. If you wanna know, if he loves you so, it's in his kiss. That's where it is!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes and finished crafting the sandwich. While cleaning up, Kakarot went into second verse, but his noise had a contender. Voices outside the flat escalated quickly to shouting. Normally, the prince wouldn’t bother getting involved but the banging against the door made him wonder if it was a visitor’s call.

He swung open the door, one hand on the knob, the other holding his sandwich and witnessed an altercation. The assailant, not expecting an interruption, shoved his victim from the door jamb towards the railing.

“Fuck off!” the man commanded Vegeta while straightening his clothes.  
  
“You first,” the Saiyan shot back, briefly making eye contact with the victim as he let go of the door to let it slowly swing fully open. She was likely another tenant and looked scared out of her wits. This retort seemed to spur the interloper as he abandoned his previous prey and focused on the prince. He dug into his waistband and produced a gun, waving it carelessly towards the brunet’s face.  
  
“I said fuck off, asshole,” the man’s voice wasn’t as loud as before, but it was much more emphatic now.  
   
Vegeta breathed, contemplating the situation as he prodded a stuck piece of bread in his teeth free with his tongue.  
  
Invading the tension, Kakarot came into view and simply asked, “What’s up?” He had strut shamelessly into the room to investigate the situation, naked and wet with hair a tousled mess.  
  
“The door’s for you,” the shorter man replied.  
  
For a split second, the gun wielder was distracted by this new development and he shifted both his gaze and aim towards the nude figure. A split second was all it took for Vegeta to act. He reached up, grabbed the barrel with his left hand, sacrificed his sandwich in order to effectively hit the guy’s wrist with his right, and then he slid back out of range of the perpetrator.  
  
“I told you,” the prince said plainly as he pointed the weapon towards the man’s chest, “You fuck off first.”  
  
He made the wise decision of cutting his loses and running. The staircase echoed with his pounding footsteps and vague threats peppered with profanity.  
  
The young woman shakily gathered herself and rose to her feet, aided by the railing. In the tiniest of moments, Vegeta impulsively began to level the sights of the weapon onto her. Not because he wished her harm, but because he wished no further harm upon her. Kakarot’s hand on his shoulder stopped the misguided euthanasia and snapped him out of the compulsion. Making a wise decision, he passed the gun to his comrade who held it like it was a used napkin.  
  
“Thank you,” the girl murmured, still dazed from adrenaline and trauma.  
  
Vegeta merely nodded.  
  
“You gonna be okay?” the taller man asked softly.  
  
“Yeah…” she said, sniffled, wiped her face, and repeated, “Yeah.”  
  
“You wanna come in?” Kakarot offered.  
  
She looked at them properly and her body language gave her away before her spoken one, “No. I’m… good. I’m gonna go.”  The girl glanced around her surroundings, expressing her uncertainty in terms of destination.  
  
“Hey,” the black-haired man’s voice dropped to a more serious timbre, “Don’t be alone. Stay with some family or friends. Okay?”  
  
“Okay,” she murmured, but it seemed to bring focus to her eyes as she chose a direction and slowly made her way.  
  
Vegeta turned away first, slipping away quietly into the guest bedroom. He climbed onto the bed to lie on his side, facing away from the door. He didn’t want to see Kakarot should he come after him because he couldn’t guarantee a predictable outcome at this time. At first he thought he might be feeling apathy because of the static of his emotional state. However, when he scrutinized it, it seemed so much more apparent that it was a conglomerate. This was due to the fact that attention given drew a feeling to the forefront, but shifting locus didn’t eradicate it. Instead, it slipped back amongst the quagmire.  
  
There was  
bemusement over his nonchalance.  
worry over the natural reaction to kill.  
satisfaction from committing an act of altruism.  
disgust in his complacency, his aptitude for violence.  
pride in his swift retaliation.  
desire for clarity…  
  
The dreaded happened when there was a quiet knock on the door. Vegeta sighed, closing his eyes and grinding his teeth before answering, “Yeah?”  
  
“Can I come in?”  
  
It took a moment for the brunet to come to a decision, “Yeah.” He heard Kakarot enter and sit down on the floor beside him, yet he refrained from engaging a conversation. The aura of the room quickly became uncomfortable and the prince spoke, “What’d you do with the gun?”  
  
“I took care of it,” Kakarot replied.  
  
Are you going to take care of me too? Vegeta thought to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for not keeping up with my weekly posting. In December I was ill for about a week, then I was working overtime due to the holidays, then I got ill again for another week after the holidays. In January I had to house sit and by that point I unfortunately just let this fall to the wayside. In penance, I really reworked this chapter to better fit the overall tone and theme.


	19. 19

**Nowhere: 19**

I am nothing more than a broken object.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This feels like the end, every second, over again.

 

 

 

 

Let me waste away, this wasted thing, this person who isn't a person. Let me hold onto this useless truth that neither condemns me nor saves me.

Pointless. Otiose.

Worship the everlasting darkness, the all-consuming monstrosity, the opaque impossibilities, the deprivations and surcharges of the sense. Worship it and still fall, still fail, still be consumed by it and haunted by it. Worship it and be punished as if you weren't. Worship it and feel the meaningless, worthless betrayal.

 

 

 

 

I stand in the epitome of lunacy.

This implies that such is a possession.  
And this only further obscures the path to sequitur.

 

 

 

Nothing living lives here.

This is the glory of mortality.

 

 

 

Hidden behind the aberration and anarchy and false witness upon this land, there is me. Singular. Separate. Segregated. Alone.

I feel guilty.

If this is guilt I feel.

 

 

 

 

I’m losing it. Hollowing out. Fading away inexorably like a force of nature. Like water carves through rock.

There once was a fortification, when in reality it was entrapment. It was worthy of being abandoned. It would have eventually imploded, leaving me as I am now.

Ripped to shreds and spitting on what remains. The illusion of choice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Don't think of this as suicide, but more like a mercy killing.

I have nothing. I am nothing, and there is nothing for me. The time has come.

 

 

To whom it may concern: I'm sorry.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated Friday. Formatting is intentional.


End file.
